


Pitstop 95

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Blood, Creepy Fluff, F/M, M/M, Multi, Nosebleed, One Shot, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their way towards God, Jesse, Cass, and Tulip stop at an abandoned gas station. That may or may not have been a good idea... </p><p>(For the prompt: Nosebleed, where Jesse is the one interested in the blood).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitstop 95

On the sixth night of their sixth week on the road, they pulled into a darkened gas station, two of them laughing while the third cursed up a storm.

 

“There’s some irony or something in this,” Jesse said, screeching to a stop beside the convenience store. The motion threw Tulip against the door and brought up a new string of expletives from the back.

 

“You tryin’ to kill me here, padre?”

 

“Maybe.” Jesse grinned as Tulip snickered.

 

The voice that came back was wet and stuffy...yet still managed to sound dry as the desert. “Or _maybe_ I should ask if you’re tryin’ to get blood all over your seats.”

 

Jesse cursed, ignoring Tulip’s howl and Cass’ cackle as he threw open the driver door, opened the back, and hauled Cass out by his shirt. He looked a right mess in the moonlight, blood pouring out his nose and staining everything from his chin down a dark brown. Cass grinned, teeth the brightest thing for a mile, and Jesse shook his head, wondering if this was what a vampire was ‘supposed’ to look like. Screw that. Cass needed a shower just like the rest of them.

 

“C’mon,” Jesse sighed. “And tilt your damn head back.”

 

“Yes, padre, my padre.”

 

“I’ll wait here,” Tulip said, kicking up her feet on the dashboard and taking out her phone. Jesse almost made a snide comment, but he knew she couldn’t do any of that stuff in the car without getting sick. She could have her Candy Crush for a few minutes.

 

He dragged Cass towards the storefront, scanning for any sort of alarm system. It was a pretty rundown place though. Creepy, if Jesse was being right honest. Like everyone had been gone for far longer than just a few hours. Still, it worked in their favor. All it took was one elbow to the door to shatter some glass and give them a way in. Jesse cleared away the sharp edges with his sleeve while Cass rambled on, voice thick.

 

“Got these all the time as a kid. My da’ was a bastard about ‘em! Oh, not in a mean way or anythin’, just teasin’. You know those fuckin’ comics with all the blood splatterin’ out when you see someone hot? Real steamy like? Well my da’ would take one look at little me and the mess I’d made, must be in love then, right? Ha! If you dare to believe it, padre, I wasn’t always my charming self. Avoided all the cute boys and girls until late in my teens—cooties weren’t anything to sneeze at, you hear?—an’ I half blame my da’ for that. Not to mention it was fuckin’ traumatizing at the time. Walkin’ nightmare of a kid. Swallowin’ blood so much I vomited it back up. I mean sure, I obviously like blood _now_ , but what kid wants to deal with that shit, huh?”

 

“Cass,” Jesse interrupted. “Are you honestly trying to get sympathy for a fucking nosebleed?”

 

“...is it working?”

 

He hid a smile by turning to the fridge. Jesse fished out a bottle of Fanta—just because he knew Cass hated the stuff—and tossed it to him in lieu of an icepack. Cass grumbled but pressed it to his nose diligently, trying to slow down the bleeding.

 

“Chips, cold cuts, beer, cigs...” Jesse muttered, turning around in the darkened store. Everything looked warped and foreign on their shelves. “Where the hell are the towels?”

 

“Now see, if you were the one bleedin’, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“…that so?”

 

Jesse honed in on the dark patches covering Cass’ skin and shirt. He didn’t think much about his approach, just sidled forward until he had his hands wrapped around a skinny waist, turning away from all the shadows behind him. Jesse heard Cass asking what he thought he was doing—a breathy tone coloring his voice—but he shushed him, trying to catch a whiff of all the blood covering Cass. He couldn’t. If there was anything to smell it was overpowered by sweat and the stale scent of the store—something sour and slightly rotten. Nothing for it then. Jesse wiped his index finger along Cass’ upper lip, where the blood had yet to congeal, and popped the digit into his mouth. Cass’ expression was worth everything, even the horrid taste.

 

“How do stand chugging this?” Jesse asked, grimacing around his knuckle.

 

“Said we craved it, padre, not that it fuckin’ tasted good. Like those stale butterfly crackers. Golden butter my ass. They taste like ass—not even yours or Tulip’s—just grade A straner ass yet there I am, still stuffin’ ‘em in my gob—”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Cass opened his mouth again and this time Jesse was there to shut him up, leaning forward to lick a strip across his cheek. The taste was still horrible, sending a roil through his stomach, but Jesse definitely liked the way Cass bucked forward from just the small touch, the way his head titled back until Jesse was practically dipping him. He sucked a bit of blood off his jaw, tonguing the stubble there…before catching sight of the silhouette framed by broken glass.

 

Jesse jumped, making Cass squawk.

 

“Shoulda known you two couldn’t just run one errand.” Tulip kept her voice pitched low, like she was trying to maintain the spooky silence of the store. She’d turned her phone on silent and the pink light lit up her face, casting craters and playing havoc with her grin.

Jesse shook the image away and straightened them both. “Like you would have done different.”

 

“Me?” Tulip asked. “I’m not an idiot. Are you really lickin’ _blood_ off of him in a goddamn _abandoned gas station_?” Tulip shook her head. “What is this, cheap horror night? You’re just asking for trouble.”

 

Jesse felt a shiver running up his back—then back down, twice as cold. “Now that you mention it...”

 

“Aw c’mon,” Cass shook his head at them both. “We were gettin’ all cozy a moment ago an’ you go an’ ruin it.” He pressed against Jesse, crouching exaggeratedly so his head was tucked under Jesse’s chin, peeking out. “You know I don’t like that stuff.”

 

Tulip snorted. “You mean you’re a superstitious scaredy cat.”

 

“That is unfair! I’m a vampire, luv. If _I_ exist who knows what the hell else is out there!”

 

“Except you’re _also a vampire_. You can defend yourself. We all can.”

 

“Full offense, but I ain’t trusting even your aim up against some ghost.”

 

“Excuse me, asshole, I—”

 

A noise cut Tulip off mid sentence. It was something that came from the back. Tulip would have said it sounded like a bottle sliding by itself across the shelf. Jesse heard the faint tickle of a bell Cass, a voice.

 

None of them said anything at all though, eyes wide and throats dry.

 

Jesse and Cass were still tucked together, Jesse now turning them both firmly towards the door. Tulip grabbed hold of Cass’ arm on the way out, unsuccessfully trying to shine her phone’s light towards the back. They couldn’t see anything... and all three were fairly grateful for it.

 

“Do you think—?” Cass started before a crash, unmistakable this time, sent them all running.

 

They piled back into the car at top speed, engine roaring. It sounded too loud now and all three of them winced. Jesse got the hunk of junk rolling forward; Tulip had a gun in her lap. Cass turned to peer out the back as they sped away.

 

“Don’t know about you two,” he whispered, “but I’d really like a nosebleed to be the only blood spilled tonight.”

 

“Shut up,” Tulip bit out.

 

“Yeah. Seriously, Cass. Shut the fuck up.”

 

“Right... promise to never talk about this again?”

 

Jesse stared out at the open road, now somehow feeling a little _too_ open. Exposed. He glanced briefly in the rearview mirror at the gas station fading from view, licked his lips and tasted blood.

 

“Swear it on my grave.”


End file.
